


A Different View

by The_shadows_of_my_mind



Series: Another Night in the Musain [1]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Braiding Enjolras' hair, Jean being an adorable little revolutionary, M/M, Mostly friendship, No real physical contact, Not really a relationship, Other, deep conversation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-22
Updated: 2014-05-22
Packaged: 2018-01-26 01:46:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1670174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_shadows_of_my_mind/pseuds/The_shadows_of_my_mind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Julien Enjolras was not one to laze about in the Spring warmth, content on watching the world go by; he was a man of action, a man who would not stop until the job was done. When he shows up to the park during a spring day, a young poet cannot help but approach the usually stony revolutionary.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Different View

Julian Enjolras was not one to laze about in the Spring warmth, content on watching the world go by; he was a man of action, a man who would not stop until the job was done. So when he appeared at the park, without a speech in hand, many of the Amis were stunned. Joly even suggested that their leader was sick, perhaps delirious. The others had muttered in agreement for awhile, glancing over their shoulders as Enjolras settled under a tree, laying back in the shade, his golden hair creating a halo around his features.

The poet Jehan Prouvaire was the first to approach him, his long brown hair tied back in a braid that had been draped over his shoulder. Enjolras opened an eye, gazing questioningly at the young boy, who had begun weaving flowers into his hair.

"It's lovely, isn't it?" He asked, gesturing out at the world. Enjolras sat up, smoothing his halo back onto his shoulders and shrugging.

"Through eyes such as yours perhaps, but it is not so for mine." he replied, meeting Jehan's eager gaze with a cool expression. The young poet frowned, clasping Enjolras' hand.

"Then you need to change mon frère. May I?" He asked, his hands abandoning Enjolras' own and idly playing through the elders hair. Slowly, the revolutionary nodded, and Jehan's face lit up. The poet spun round, kneeling behind Enjolras and combing thin fingers through golden strands.

"How do you see the world Jehan? Eyes such as yours do not seem to be troubled by the suffering of those less fortunate." Jehan hummed softly, his fingers faltering for a moment.

"I see the suffering, do not mistake that, but I prefer to focus on the hope that they possess. Like a flower trapped in a winter storm, they know change is coming, but they must wait." Enjolras nodded slowly, frowning softly.

"And if the change does not come?"

"It already has." Jehan whispered, trailing his hand lightly along Enjolras' jaw. The elder tensed, opening his mouth to protest, but pausing as Jehan completely moved away, standing and gazing at the city. Enjolras' hand ghosted to his hair, blue eyes widening as his fingers brushed a braid. The revolutionary frowned, curling his fingers around a stem and pulling. A small red flower lay in the palm of his hand, and he looked up at the poet with a puzzled expression.

"A rose," Jehan said simply, taking the flower from Enjolras' palm and weaving the bud back into the other's hair, "A symbol, if you will. Of the people's strength. They appear harmless and fragile, but are covered in thorns and will prick those who aren't careful." He finished, a small blush tinting his cheeks.

"You are wise beyond your years Jehan." Enjolras said, gripping the poet's wrist as he stood, a warm smile gracing his stony features.

"I spend much of my time with you; I've gained some of your wisdom." Jehan replied modestly, looking up with a shy smile. Enjolras chuckled, glancing over at the others before wrapping an arm around the poet's thin shoulders.

"Show me more of this world of yours, Prouvaire."


End file.
